One, Two, Three
by KittyVampireMouse
Summary: In your mind, three seconds is all the time that this world allows you to sift through all of the bullshit that would drive many others to madness. What happens when a like minded person finds you in a moment of struggle with your own philosophies? Negan/Reader Warnings for Negan's potty mouth and the general horror that comes with a zombie apocolypse. Enjoy!


**Hi guys! This was a request from a lovely reader who wanted some more Negan x Reader. Jackieee.98, this is for you! I'm sorry about the wait. I just got a new keyboard for my tablet. Typing a whole story out on a touchscreen keyboard is rather difficult and a lot of annoying.**

 **But, enjoy everyone!**

"One, Two, Three . . ."

You shook. You couldn't stop shaking. Teeth chattering from the freezing air; body trembling from the sickening shock. And everywhere, all around you . . .the . . . sounds. Growls, moans, and groans of the zombies that marched in droves just outside your flimsy tarp tent. The sound of the dead as they tore apart and chewed whatever was left of your group.

The leader had been trying to find a safe haven for all of you, but luck didn't seem to favor his attempts. It seemed that no matter where you went; you only found more and more of **them**. Walkers. And, after over six months of nonstop travel with dwindling supplies; the group had lost many. Men, women, children. The biters didn't discriminate when it came to what they ate and killed.

Finally, after a burnt supply run that ended in two more lives lost; the leader decided that they should stop and make camp on the side of an empty highway. Give everyone time to rest and mourn. Grief and exhaustion were in abundance at the moment; and everyone just needed some time to pull themselves back together.

But, since when does **this** world give you time to do anything anymore?

The group had set up tents and tarps for the night. They all managed to drift into slumber rather quickly. You had your little, green tent set up on the edge of the site, just like usual. Until the unusual hit. You heard a sudden scream. A loud, ear-piercing, blood curdling scream.

Thinking that a wandering walker had stumbled upon your camp, you unzipped the tent door and poked your head out; small gun in hand. Ready to help if you could. Little did you know, that there could be no helping with what you were about to witness.

Head still barely peeped out of the tent's little window, you saw. And, you froze.

E-everywhere, they were everywhere. A herd of corpses had collided with your group's campsite at some point during the night. They snapped and growled, ripping chunks out of the people that had come to be your friends. People were trying to shoot. To fight back, but one by one; they keep falling. Screaming as they are drug to the ground and devoured.

Swallowing back the bile that had risen in your throat, you quickly ducked back into your tent. Throwing yourself down on the ratty, old sleeping bag; you pressed your hand to your mouth to muffle your harsh breathes and muted sobs. You prayed that they couldn't hear your pounding heart or smell your fear. Tears tracked down the sides of your face and back into your hair as the sounds of suffering survivors were slowly overpowered by the shuffling and groaning of the dead.

You knew. Knew that all of your friends were either dead or dying. Eaten or turned. And even though survival instinct kept you lying there; still and quiet as the herd stumbled by unaware, you wanted to scream. To fight. People just keep dying and there's no time to process. **This** is how you go crazy!

You lye there, staring at the roof of the small tent that had acted as your shield through the massacre. Slowly, your eyes flutter closed as you count under your breath.

"One, two, three . . . one, two, three."

Three seconds. Three seconds to get over it all. Three seconds to mourn the friends and companions that you keep losing. Three seconds to put the pieces back together, and cover the cracks. Even if you have to half-ass it with some duck tape. Three seconds, because that's all that you could safely allow yourself in this shitty new world.

"One, two, three," your trembling lips whispered as pure exhaustion forced you into an uneasy sleep.

A hailstorm of gunshots jolted you from your nightmare filled rest. Disoriented and feeling half dead, you clumsily threw yourself out of the tent. Ready to chance a run for your life. However; that plan was easily thwarted, when a blonde man with a half burnt face grabbed you by the shoulder and forced you to your knees. The cold, hard gravel digging into your skin. A bad night to be wearing nothing but a tank, shorts, and your lucky boots.

After regaining your balance, you glanced around. You were surrounded; no other word for it other than screwed. Circled by more men than you could count. All carrying heavy firepower. And at their feet? An ocean of empty bullet shells and a graveyard worth of walker bodies. They had taken out the entire herd in mere minutes.

"Keep your head down!" shouted scar face.

Startled by the sudden noise and not wanting to be on the wrong side of these people, you did as told. Bringing your gaze down to the earth beneath your aching knees.

" **Dwight!** " The commanding bark thundered throughout the silent air, and jostled you worse than Dwight's manhandling had.

Like the Red Sea the crowed split in two as the tall figure strolled on through. He stopped, only when he stood less than two feet from your crouched figure.

"Back the fuck off Dwighty boy," he rumbled to his blonde subordinate. "You are scaring her shitless with that ugly ass mug of yours."

Dwight reluctantly left your side, only to grumpily fall in line behind his leader.

Bringing your eyes back to the intimidatingly tall gentlemen who stood before you, you were unable to keep yourself from ogling; both out of fear and a bit of amusement. This guy was built but lanky. Firm chest with arms and legs that went on for days. His tight leather jacket only accentuated all of this. As he mozied forward and crouched until his face was level with yours, you saw that he wore a burgundy scarf around his neck. Sitting a bit too comfortably on his shoulder was a bat covered in bloody barbwire. A shit eating grin split across his face, crinkling his nose, dimpling his stubbled cheeks, and lighting up his chocolate eyes as he looked you over.

"Hi", he started; sweeping a leather gloved hand through his slicked back salt and pepper hair, "I'm Negan."

"Y/N," you whispered. No point in resisting if they were most likely going to kill you anyway.

Negan's tongue poked at his bottom lip in amusement at your quick and easy submission.

"D-did you guys take out the herd?" you asked, gaze straying back to all of the dead undead.

"Fuck Yeah!" bellowed Negan, causing you to fall back a bit, "We took care of those fucking dead shits, no problem! Hell darlin, we had so much fun shooting them up that I won't even aske you for a thank you!" A rumble of agreance came from the group as they quietly rallied their leader's enthusiasm.

Once again, you glanced at a few of the corpses; and were sad to say that you recognized a few. Whatever tiny, insignificant hope that you had been holding out for was crushed and rotting in your heart. Your stomach felt heavy with guilt, and your chin dropped to your chest with the weight of it.

Suddenly, Negan's voice cut across the quiet night air. Oddly, it wasn't the same over acentric boom that he had spoken with previously. "Oh, baby doll," sympathy and concern flashed through the leader's eyes.

A firm finger brought your chin up from your chest, gently coaxing you into eye contact. You realized that you probably looked absolutely pitiful. Roughed up and dirty. Covered in the blood of others and down on your knees before an unbeatable enemy. Yet unspilled tears threatening to streak your face.

Negan's tone was low and whispered as if he were afraid you would break if he spoke any louder. "Where these your people?" He motioned towards the dead walkers.

Shakily and as much as his hold would allow, you nodded.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Negan's hand left your face to run down his own. You regretted to say that you immediately missed the warmth of his skin.

"Shhhiiiaaatt! How long you been hiding out here, darlin?"

You were quite surprised that he genuinely sounded worried. Why should he care? Trying to recall exactly how long you had waited out the horde of zombies, you replied; "I-I think since this evening?" That sounded about right.

Negan's eyes almost bugged out of his head, cracking his emotionless leader mask. "Fucking, fuckity, fuck! Do you know what time it is!?"

You just shook your head, not getting what had this man so freaked.

After straightening his face back up, Negan spoke, "Doll, you been in that cramped ass tent in the middle of a fucking herd that was only growing by the god damn second since about five or six?"

You nodded, knowing that it had been around that time that your group had set up camp.

Negan's brow furrowed, his eyes searching yours for some kind of reaction. "Baby doll, It is about midnight or later right now."

'Well, hell', you thought. You supposed that being in shock and scared out of your mind must have made the time fly by. Not to mention, you had passed out for a bit as well.

"Haha!, My Little Badass!" Negan's jovial voice echoed. A huge, toothy smile lit up his face as he leaned even closer. "I liked you when I saw you because you were fucking adorable. But now, you are adorable and you've got some beach ball sized lady nuts to rival my own manly set!"

This guy's mouth was ridiculous. And, despite what he was saying, you didn't feel too badass at the moment. No, you felt more like a coward. However, before you could fall back into your self induced depression, a strong arm hauled you off of the ground and up to your feet. Until you were standing toe to toe; face to chest with Negan.

You couldn't stop yourself from shaking. A mix of adrenaline, fear, and exhaustion was playing havoc on your nerves. Seeing this, Negan suddenly moved. The unexpected action had caused you to flinch and Him to freeze.

"Hey," his words were husky as he continued to move; though slower this time. As he brought his arms backward; he slipped his black, leather jacket off of his shoulders. "You are a badass," continued the leader, as he brought the jacket around and swept the warmed leather over your shivering shoulders. "You're not scared of shit." Negan found the zipper on the coat and yanked it up until you were engulfed in both his lingering heat and his comforting scent. "So, don't be scared of me. It's a disappointment." His words sounded hard, but his eyes were softened as he gazed at you nearly drowning in his jacket.

You found yourself nodding along. Again, you didn't feel like a badass; but Negan calling you one just kind of felt good to hear.

A smile lit up his features as he placed his heavy hands on your shoulders. "Listen darlin; we got food, water, a roof, and walls. I want you to come with us. You'll have a home."

The offer sounded nice. And coming from Negan's smooth voice, it sounded even nicer. But, you hadn't survived this far in the apocalypse by accepting every "kind gesture". There was always a catch. A price. And, you were afraid of what his might be.

"W-what do I have to do?" you peeped.

Negan's grin only grew at the idea of you coming back with them. He really didn't want to have to kill you. You were interesting, smart, strong, and sexy as fuck. If he did say so himself. Several things he was lacking in the current company that he kept. Yeah, he didn't want to leave you here.

"Three choices, sweet cheeks!" exclaimed Negan as he held up three fingers between the two of you.

"And, if I don't like any of the above?" you mumbled quietly.

A slight look of sadness crossed the leaders features, but he spoke as if he felt nothing. "I'll give you a gun and some ammo; and you'll be sent off far enough that you don't pose a threat."

Gulping down your anxiety, you nodded; giving him the go ahead to continue speaking.

A sly smile played on his lips. He knew that he was getting to you. Holding up his pointer finger; Negan bellowed, "First choice! You come along, we set you up with some riveting physical labor, and you work for points! You can buy necessities and survive under my protection!"

You didn't like the sound of this choice. Get a job? Work your ass off? It sounded so mundane. Personally, you were certain that it would bore you to death.

"Second choice!" yelled Negan as he let his middle finger join the first, "We get you back to the Sanctuary, get in some training, and you become a Savior. A soldier. You go on runs, fight the dead, and protect our home and our people! And, you will live like a fucking queen in exchange!"

He made it sound so glorious. This choice was more up your alley. Yes, you hated having to fight all of the time just to stay alive; but it had become apart of you. You were a survivor. And, getting to do a job that allows you to protect people sounds a lot better than having one that just allows you to scrape by. Plus you didn't want to go soft. That could be deadly, should the place ever fall.

"Third and final fucking choice, sweat cheeks!" Negan's voice suddenly went low as he cocked his hip out. He leaned in even closer; his brown eyes sultry and seductive. "You could become a wife."

Brow raised; you questioned, "A wife?"

He chuckled. "A wife. I have about five, now. They agree to marry me and do all the wifely duties, and I give them everything they want. First fucking pick of this and first fucking pick of that. Got the gist, doll?"

Nodding, you got it. You didn't like it, but you got it. The only reason you weren't flipping on him was because as Negan went on announcing his choices, you realized that he must go through this whole show every time he welcomes someone new. Meaning, that he always offered a choice. Those wives chose. Oddly enough, that wasn't even the most bothersome thing about it. You found yourself putting yourself in the position of a wife. With a husband like Negan, you would be starting jealous bitch fights with the others. You wouldn't be able to share your man, even if your marriage was just a contract to survive.

"So, what will it be doll face?! There's no door motherfucking four!" Negan was awaiting your decision, one hand on his cocked hip and the other gripping the bloody bat.

Shaking away the thought of being a wife, you chose. "Number two!" you yipped, not realizing how loud you had said it.

"I knew it!" whooped the savior's leader. "My Little Fucking Badass!"

Nervous that you had replied in the wrong way, you mumbled so only Negan could hear. You didn't want to look even worse in front of these people if you were to join them.

"I-Is that okay?" A blush stained your chilled cheeks.

"Okay?" asked Negan in playful disbelief, "It's fanfuckingtastic! I always need more fighters, and you are a god damn fighter. And, I get wanting to protect people. We'll get you set up in your own room and have you training before you know it! How's that sound baby doll?".

It sounded good. Really good. Having lost everything and gaining something completely new all in one day was a bit overwhelming, but . . . all you had was three seconds. And, they were up. So, now it was either move forward and live or freeze up and die.

Finally able to find some strength in your voice, you looked into Negan's face with determination. "That sounds perfect, Negan."

He was caught short by how delicate your words were, and hearing his name from your wind chapped lips. Seeing a spitfire attitude already alighting in your eyes, Negan knew that this was going to be fun. He's glad that they stumbled upon this destroyed camp. He has now gained a very interesting personal project in this soft spoken yet tough skinned woman.

"Well, alright then," he said as he glanced around at his men. "Let's get the fuck out of here! I'm freezing my balls off!"

Snapping into action, the men loaded into the trucks with whatever supplies that they had scavenged from the decimated campsite.

Turning back to you, Negan offered a hand. "Ready, sweat cheeks?" he asked with a cocky grin.

Slightly hesitant, you let your small hand grip his larger one. His fingers wrapped tightly and held firm as he lead you over to a big, black Chevy. But, before you could crawl in; a loud scream came from behind the truck.

Eyes widened in panic; your mind pleaded, 'Not again.'

Negan and several other men busted into action, running over to the source of the sound. Feeling numb, but determined not to lose your new group so soon; you followed Negan as he sprinted behind the truck. You could all only watch in horror as a stray walker dug his face into the innards of a young man. No older than eighteen. The boy was screaming; still alive as the zombie chewed on his guts. It was as if everyone was too enraptured by the horror to move.

 _Bash!_

Walker brains exploded as Negan plowed his bloody bat through it's skull, killing it instantly. Only then, did someone think to shoot the poor dying boy and put him out of his misery.

Heavy breathes littered the air, but Negan was practically growling. His face was pinched and enraged. "FUCK!" he shouted before walking off. Unable to look at the scene before them anymore. You watched as he stepped over behind the truck that you two had been standing by before.

You didn't want to bother him, but you knew that you couldn't just leave him alone. So quietly and cautiously, you walked over. He was crouched behind the vehicle with his bloodied hands covering his face and his bloodied bat lying at his feet.

"Joel," he grumbled so low that you almost couldn't hear him.

"Huh?" You tilted your head.

Negan dropped his hands, allowing you to see his tired expression. "The kid's name was Joel," he spoke haggardly.

Slowly, you crouched down until you were sitting beside him on the ground. His leather jacket squeaking with your movements. You just stared for a second, trying to convey that you were listening.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Negan spoke. "He wanted to come so bad. He had been begging his momma for weeks," said the savior with an amused fondness. "I told her I'd watch him. And now, I have to go back and tell her that he's dead. Cause I wasn't watching him." His shoulders were slumped in defeat.

Wanting to comfort him, you brought your hand up until it rested on his back. The expanse huge in comparison to your tiny palm. You could feel his skin and muscle move with his breathing.

"One, two, three . . .," you whispered.

Brow cocked, Negan looked at you as if you had grown another head.

Rolling your eyes, you replied; "Just do it."

"One, two, three," you repeated as you continued to rub his back.

After about two more repetitions, a smile spread across your face. In a quiet huff from the man beside you, you heard it. Quiet, but there. "One, two, three." In Negan's grumbled whisper. A warm pride filled your chest, and without your total permission your body ended up leaning against the leader's.

"Hey," asked Negan; his voice suddenly sharp and clear. You flinched, thinking that he would tear away from your touch.

"Y-yeah?" you stuttered against his shoulder.

"Three what, doll?" Negan pulled back from you, but just enough so that the two of you were facing each other. His eyes were studying you with an intense emotion.

"Three seconds," you spoke with sympathy. You knew that what you were about to say was going to sound harsh, but it had become your philosophy. It had helped you to survive, and understand why you sometimes lived when others did not. "Three seconds to get over whatever crazy shit happens. Pick up the pieces and move forward."

You waited for judgment from the savior, however, his eyes were empathetic.

"Well hell, darlin. Ain't you just the only one who fucking gets it." Negan's sassy grin returned to his face as he rocked to his feet. He held a hand down to you, pulling you up along with him. "You ready to go, baby girl?" he asked; head cocked as he stared at you with fond amusement. Apparently, you two thought more alike than you would have guessed.

A small smile graced your face, "Let's go."

Without further interruption the two of you crawled into the big, black truck. Him in the drivers seat, and you sitting in the passengers. You looked over to him as he went to sit his bloody bat on the dash. The two of you locked eyes, and he brought the slugger up with a smile. Presenting the weapon in a rather delicate and un-Negan like manner.

"This is Lucille," he told you. His gaze was flicking between you and the barbed bat; his eyes soft towards the both of you.

You could sense that this weapon had one hell of a back story, and a lot of emotional attachment for Negan. Not wanting to be judgmental, and seeking to keep this man's trust; you cautiously reached over and took Lucille into your own shaky grip. "I-Is it ok if I hold her while you drive?"

Negan's eyes widened as he watched you carefully take the bloodied bat. You gently settled the weapon onto your lap, the steel barbs slightly digging into the skin of your thighs. Not enough to hurt, just enough to feel. "Hi, Lucille," you mumbled.

A grin appeared on Negan's face as he watched you with his beloved Lucille. He thought of how small and weak you looked sitting there in the passenger's seat wearing nothing but some night clothes and **his** jacket. But, he also remembered how strong that you had to have been to have survived for so long. He also thought of how smart you were. You had this world figured out. Even if the truth of it sucked, you accepted it. Worked with it. And, you were sure as shit the bravest little badass that he had ever seen. You didn't cower in his presence. You were wary of a stranger, but you didn't fear him.

As the truck started, and scenery passed; you watched. Out the window, trees were becoming more visible as the sun began to rise. Lucille was a calming weight on your lap as you let the events of the night wash over you. Your eyes felt heavy. You were tired and your head bobbed with every bump in the road.

Negan's cackle pulled you from your thoughts. Suddenly, you were pulled into a warm, firm chest by a large arm. Blushing and trying to keep your heart from hammering out of your chest, you subtly adjusted until you were curled comfortably close to Negan. His chest rumbled beneath your ear as he spoke.

"Dawn's approaching, doll face! It's a brand new day!" He smiled leaning down to peck a small kiss on your temple.

"Three seconds, right darlin?" whispered Negan; his lips moving against your skin.

Letting yourself go lax in his hold, you replied. "Three seconds." You had had your three and now it was time. So, you focused on your new life. New opportunities. And, a chance to make up for all of the lives that were lost to you. You were moving forward, but at least, this time you wouldn't be all alone.

 **Hope you enjoyed!**

 **This was a request, so if you have any more just message me.**

 **Reviews welcome!**


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